


A Case of Identity

by catwrites



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 09:35:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15749034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwrites/pseuds/catwrites
Summary: Connor wants nothing more than to figure himself out after the revolution. He's got his job, and Hank, but he isn't sure where he stands with the androids of Jericho. On top of his own insecurities, now there's a serial killer on the lose that seems to have an obsession with him specifically.So much for everything looking up once the revolution was over.





	A Case of Identity

**Author's Note:**

> hello, yes, hi. This is my first Detroit work, so hopefully it's up to snuff.
> 
> Title comes from the Sherlock Holmes short story of the same name.
> 
> This is unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Connor thinks he must have felt emotions long before he went deviant. How else could he explain all the times he paused, the seconds of hesitation, before he made choices that directly hindered the objectives of his missions?

He’s been doing that since day one, he thinks. Since he returned the fish to its tank. There was no logical reason for it. It would have no bearing on the case at hand. Wouldn’t save the little girl. Yet he had done it. Could not bring himself to leave the fish where it was.

Whenever he finds himself contemplating such things, his deviancy and when it started, he remembers Amanda in the garden. He remembers billowing snow and her smugness as she informed he had preformed as designed. As programed.

Had he really been programed to deviate the entire time? It seems to be a contradiction, but he cannot deny that it gave CyberLife an almost perfect shot at Markus. Had it not been for the backdoor Kamski had hidden there, CyberLife would have gotten exactly what they had intended. Connor would have succeeded in his mission. Would have stopped Markus, even after he tore through the programming telling him to do so.

Can he truly be a deviant if he was programed to be one?

He doesn’t know, and there’s no one he can ask. His experience isn’t the same as the other androids. Not even that of the other RK prototype.

He’s so lost in thought about it that he doesn’t realize that the car has stopped outside of Hank’s house and Hank is already waiting for him on the sidewalk until the human raps his knuckles on the window.

“You coming or are you just going to stay out in the car?”

He shakes his head, as if he can clear all the queries and analysis from his interface.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” he says as he steps out of the car, closing the door carefully.

Hank studies him, and Connor can’t help but think of the gun pointed at the human’s head. His hands, but not, holding the gun. He turns his gaze down to the sidewalk.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Connor?”

Connor shrugs, looking to meet Hank’s eyes. “Nothing.”

Hank raises an eyebrow and taps a finger to his temple in the spot where an LED would go. “Want to try that again, son? Your little light there has been yellow since we left Chicken Feed.”

Connor considers his options. He’s normally better at controlling his LED, but it seems he’s been caught out this time.

“I admit to feeling some degree of… confusion about my own identity after recent events. It has elevated my stress beyond optimal levels,” Connor admits softly. “I am… unsure as to where I belong now.”

Hank hums thoughtfully. “That’s perfectly understandable. We’ll figure it out, kid. As for where you belong, well, you always have a place with me. If you want it.”

Connor looks at Hank, trying to find any untruth to the statement. Hank just looks like Hank. Gruff, but earnest.

“I’d like that, yes.”

Hank smiles. “Well, come on then. I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

Connor opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Is that possible for humans?

He begins scans to determine if Hank is indeed at risk of such a fate, before Hank snorts fondly. “It’s a figure of speech. Come on.”

Connor follows.

Inside, he beelines for Sumo. He drops to his knees and wraps his arms around the dog, who allows the attention. For three minutes and 12 seconds, Connor stays there with his face buried in the thick fur of Sumo’s neck. He listens to the sounds of Hank moving about the house as the man kicks his shoes off and shrugs out of his jacket.

“What will happen tomorrow?” Connor asks finally, giving Sumo one last squeeze before sitting up.

“What do you mean?” Hank asks from where he’s stretched out on the couch with his arm over his eyes.

“Am I going to be in trouble with Fowler? Will he have me…?” Connor trails off, overwhelmed with the number of options he could chose to put there.

“No, you’re not going to be in trouble.”

Connor turns towards Hank, but doesn’t stand. He doesn’t want Hank to be afraid of him when he tells him the truth of what he’s done.

“I murdered 7 humans in the course of trying to help the androids win their freedom.”

Hank moves his arm to look at Connor. “Were these humans armed and a threat to you or others?”

“Yes.”

Hank shrugs, and settles back into his previous position on the couch. “Then it was in the act of self-defense.”

“But there are no definitive laws that protect androids from humans. In fact, androids are explicitly- “

Hank sits up with a groan and cuts him off. “Connor, the events of the past few days are unprecedented. Laws will have to change. You won’t be in trouble. You were defending living beings from a perceived threat.”

Connor nods, still unsure if Fowler or any of the DPD will see it that way.

“Kid, you’ve saved my life more than once in the short time we’ve known each other. If Fowler even so much as hints at wanting to do something to you, we won’t even look back as we head for the border. That being said, what do you want to happen?”

Connor remembers Kamski asking him something similar. This is Hank, though. Connor feels no need to lie to Hank.

“I want to work at the DPD as a detective. I want to continue to be your partner and work cases. I enjoy it, and I’m good at it.”

“Okay. Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Connor frowns, LED spinning in confusion. “You cannot guarantee that for me, Hank.”

“Watch me.”

Connor’s attempts at getting further information from Hank go nowhere, and eventually Hank goes into his room to sleep.

“Be ready to go early in the morning. We’re going to talk to Fowler first thing,” Hank says before he shuts the door, and Connor is left to worry about how that meeting is going to go.

Connor cannot get his thoughts to settle, and eventually the light of the rising sun creeps in through the windows before he’s prepared himself for whatever will happen at the station.

By the time they’re standing in Fowler’s office, Connor’s stress level is the highest he’s ever experienced, at 79.8%. He keeps careful control of his LED, tries to maintain some outward appearance of calm as Hank ushers him in with a hushed, “Let me do the talking”.

Fowler looks up at them as they enter.

“What’s he doing here?” Fowler asks with a pointed look at Connor.

“Connor would like to be instated as a detective in this precinct with all the benefits that would entitle him to.”

Fowler looks at Hank with wide eyes. Connor keeps his face impassive, though the blunt announcement causes a two percent increase in his stress level.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” Connor says when it is clear the question is directed at him. “I would also like to request permanent assignment as Lieutenant Anderson’s partner.”

“After the public disturbance you were a part of these past few days?”

“Connor wasn’t a part of that,” Hank says easily before Connor can apologize.

Fowler gives Hank an unimpressed look. “He wasn’t? Then who was that on the Channel 16 news?”

“As you well know, there was an RK800 model recovered at CyberLife tower. I believe that must have been the android spotted during the deviants’ demonstration. Connor was with me.”

“You would testify to that?”

“Yes,” Hank says, without hesitation.

“Would you testify to that in court? If I hire him on, and we end up with a hearing from internal affairs, would you testify to that?”

Hank is quiet for a moment, and Connor is ready to step forward and accept his punishment. Hank still beats him to it.

“Yes. I can testify that he was with me. You want me to swear on a bible, and tell people this kid here is a good kid, I can do that. He’s a good detective.”

Fowler considers them. “Be that as it may, Hank, I’ve got inquisitions out the ass about what role an officer of the law played in the events that happened recently. His face was on the broadcast.”

“If there was one other RK800 model, there might have been more. All you need is to sow that doubt. Sir, just think of what a huge step toward bringing the civil unrest down in Detroit would be if we instate the first android detective. Someone the androids can bring legal issues to. They’ve gained their independence. Now they’ll need representation, and people who advocate for them with the law. We could make the first step. An act of good faith. Connor has been an exemplary officer since he started. If you’re willing to let him go for trying to bring justice to his people, then you’ll have to take my fucking badge, too. Sir.”

Fowler rubs the bridge of his nose, before he looks at Connor.

“I don’t want to let you go. You’ve been instrumental in helping us investigate. Not to mention the positive impact you’ve seemingly had on this shithead. I need you to understand the pressure I’m facing. The scrutiny we’re under now because your face was on the news.”

Connor opens his mouth, but Fowler holds up a hand to stop him.

“Quiet, I don’t want to know if it was you or not. I’ll keep my plausible deniability. Hank says there was another RK800 model, which we have proof of. We’ll run with that. Just keep a low profile, for the love of God. Once we go public about your hiring, we’ll have reporters hanging around. Be cordial, but don’t answer questions. We’ll let PR handle that. You’re both on thin ice. I’m sure I don’t have to explain that to either of you. One toe out of line, and I’ll see both your badges on my desk.”

“Yes, sir. Understood,” Hank says, the hint of a smile already starting to form on his face.

“Thank you, Captain. You won’t regret this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get the fuck out of my office. I don’t want to see either of you in front of my desk again for at least a month.”

Hank nods. “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Connor follows Hank out quickly, unwilling of even blinking wrong and causing the Captain to suddenly change his mind.

Hank is whistling as he walks over to their desks. Connor reaches out and gently touches his arm.

“Thank you. You shouldn’t have told him you’d testify that I was with you during the protest.”

Hank pats him on the shoulder and sits down at his desk. “Technically, you were with me. I was there at the tower, wasn’t I? It’s about finding loopholes, son. Now come on, we have work to do.”

Connor smiles, finally allowing himself to believe that everything will work out for the best.

  
\----

_The Detroit Police Department have announced the hiring of the world’s first android detective, an RK800 model named Connor. The prototype was developed specifically by CyberLife to aid in police investigations. According to the Department’s spokesperson, the RK800 is one of a kind. The android had already been working closely with their officers even before the protest started. This android is the first to be employed with the benefits usually granted a human. Which company will be the first to follow suit?_

\----

  
If Markus had thought the hard part of their revolution was over when the humans recognized them as alive, he is sorely mistaken. Now there’s press conferences after peace summits after meetings with Congress. All this gearing up for the Big Meeting with President Warren in two months’ time once some of the dust has settled and there’s a semblance of order restored in Detroit.

Markus has always thought of himself as patient. He had to be to be a good caretaker. The people who ask him questions at these meetings and conferences are trying to test his limits.

“So, what do you mean exactly by equal rights for androids?” the journalist asks earnestly.

Markus has to fight the urge to shut his eyes in frustration. “We mean exactly that. We just want equal rights and representation. Protection in the eyes of the law. The right to own property. The right to paid jobs. Nothing more. Just all the liberties afforded to humans.”

Hands go up, and Markus gears himself up for another long day. The press conference happens in segments. He talks for a time, and then the mayor of Detroit voices obstacles that will have to be overcome. Simon offers solutions, which Markus then reads to the room at large. Back and forth they go.

During one of the Mayor’s discussions about what benefit a salary would have for an android who doesn’t need to eat, Markus kind of loses focus and finds himself looking around the room. Aside from the invited media, there’s the DPD presence to keep things calm.

As the appointed liaison between the DPD and Jericho, as well as the first employed android, Connor is standing against one of the walls watching the proceedings intently.

After the events at the Jericho tanker, Markus never though he would have applied the word skittish to Connor. Looking at him now even, standing at the side of a scruff older detective that Markus assumes must be Lieutenant Anderson, he looks focused and in his element.

If Markus were to approach him after the press conference, perhaps to extend an invitation to come celebrate with some of the other androids once he’s done with work for the day, it would be a different story. Markus doesn’t know if Connor is actively avoiding them, or just extremely busy with his actual job, but Markus would like the chance to get to know the other RK prototype. Any attempts at reaching out outside of official business have been met with wide eyes and polite declinations.

Markus can see the preconstructions of it now. He’s going to try and execute the action anyway once he’s given his talk and exchanged pleasantries with the officials gathered around. He’s still running through the simulations when Simon elbows him subtly in the side.

Business first.

Once he’s answered the exhaustive questions of the journalist, and shaken more hands than he cares to think about, he slowly winds through the crowd to where the security detail is standing.

Markus smiles at them as he approaches, careful to seem nonthreatening. It’s only been eight days since android liberation, and tensions are still high. He can tell the officers standing near the two detectives are nervous as he approaches. They shift uncomfortably side to side.

He’s not the only one to notice.

“Get lost, you two. You’re pissing me off with your fidgeting,” Lieutenant Anderson tells them with a scowl.

Markus smiles gratefully at the man when he stops in front of them.

“You must be Lieutenant Anderson. I’m Markus.”

“That’s me, though you can call me Hank. Nice to finally meet you, Markus. This one,” Hank says with a jerk of his head in Connor’s direction, “talks about you nonstop.”

“Lieutenant,” Connor protest.

Hank smiles serenely at Markus. “Ah, seems I’ve embarrassed him.”

Connor frowns, shaking his head.

Markus smiles at the human before turning his attention to address Connor.

“I’ve come to see if you would like to come to a small get together I’m hosting, once you’re free from your responsibilities at the DPD.”

Connor glances at the Lieutenant, as if for guidance, and Markus sees a new option flash up.

He latches onto it. “The Lieutenant would be more than welcome to accompany us.”

Connor’s LED flashes yellow then red then back to blue so fast that if Markus couldn’t replay the memory he might have doubted it happened at all. He’s at a loss for what possible outcome Connor read from that to make his stress spike like that. He knows Connor is fond of the Lieutenant from the way he talks, and Hank seems equally fond of Connor judging by their current interactions and body language.

“I don’t think- “

Hank snorts. “Don’t worry, kid, I don’t want to crash your secret roboclub.”

“That is not…” Connor trails off, looking lost.

Hank waves his hand.

“I’m not offended, Connor,” Hank reassures. “How about I leave you two to chat? I’ve got some officers to chew out.”

With that, Hank stalks over to where the two officers he sent away are standing.

Markus and Connor watch him go before Markus clears his throat.

“I only invited him in the hopes that it might make your more inclined to join us. He’s of course welcome, but I’d really like you to come,” Markus says, deciding honesty is the best way to deal with the detective.

“I will consider the invitation. I do not know how long I will be needed at the station once we return. It may be very late.”

Markus knows an excuse when he hears one, but he nods gamely and lets it slide. “Just let me know. We’d really like the chance to get to know you better. We’ll be at my place. It won’t be the same without you there.”

Connor opens his mouth, before he snaps it closed and tilts his head in confusion. His LED spins yellow.

“I will let you know,” Connor repeats dutifully, before making to leave.

“Connor?”

Connor turns back to him uncertainly.

“Please. Think about it.”

Connor nods sharply, once, before he trots over towards where it looks like Lieutenant Anderson is giving a stern lecture to the two officers from before.

Markus watches him go with a frown.

That definitely did not go as planned.

  
\----

Sometimes, Connor looks at his hand and sees traces of thirium on his skin. He doesn’t know if it’s actually there, or if he’s remembering it. Letting his memory log overlay into reality. There’s a 92% chance that it is the latter, and only an 8% chance that his enhanced sensors are picking up traces of thirium truly leftover on his skin.

He washes his hands a lot, but it never seems to do anything to the displayed blue splattered on his skin and under his nails.

He still washes his hands.

“The way you wash your hands, you’d think you wouldn’t stick things _in your mouth_ with as much frequency as you do.” Hank comments as he returns to their desks.

Connor shrugs. “I don’t want to contaminate the crime scene and samples with whatever maybe on my hands when I touch things to analyze them. Best to make it a habit.”

The lie comes out smoothly, and Connor is proud of himself for the two seconds the Lieutenant nods contemplatively.

“Whatever you say, kid. So what time are you meeting up with your robot buddies?”

Connor’s feelings of pride diminish into nothing. “We have a lot of work to do here, Lieutenant. I still have reports to file and evidence to log from everything that happened and- “

Hank arches an eyebrow. “Bullshit. Try again.”

“I must make sure that your caloric and nutritional intake are optimal.”

Hank gives him an unimpressed look, and Connor says the last option he has left besides the truth.

“Sumo needs me?“

“Come on, son, out with it.”

Connor sighs, because it gives him time to process the best way to say what he’s thinking and feeling without causing Hank undue concern.

He starts with the easiest to address. “Captain Fowler wants me to ‘keep a low profile’. I’m not sure how being seen with the leader of the android uprising counts as a ‘low profile’. I’m supposed to be neutral, and I would not want to get either of us in trouble for appearing in the media.”

Hank nods. “Okay, I can understand your concern with public image, but Fowler made you liaison between the DPD and your Jericho buddies. That gives you a blanket permission to be seen with them. It’s part of your job, isn’t it?”

Connor nods. “I guess so.”

“So that’s a good answer, but not the heart of the issue,” Hank guesses.

Connor shrugs, trying to think of another plausible reason. Instead he says, pathetic and small, “I do not think they like me.”

Hank’s eyebrows go up into his hairline. “You don’t think they like you? Connor, Android Jesus asked you personally to attend whatever shit he’s throwing.”

Connor looks at the file on his desk so he doesn’t have to look at Hank.

“I do not think they _should_ like me,” he amends quietly.

“Connor. Connor, look at me,” Hank says firmly.

Connor takes a few seconds before he does just because he can.

“Why shouldn’t they like you?”

Connor looks at his hands and they’re blue blue blue. He thinks of Amanda, and the terrifying realization that his body had moved without him even being aware of it. He pushes thoughts of her away. He spent 12 hours and 57 minutes exhaustively going through every line of his code, deleting every trace of her before he dared go near the androids from Jericho again. Or Hank. Once he realized what he was looking for, it was easy enough to yank anything pertaining to her and the garden out of his programing. Kamski’s backdoor had shut it all down, but he wasn’t taking any chances of it somehow coming back online.

“Because I hurt them. They shouldn’t even trust me, much less want me to spend time with them.”

“Hey now,” Hank says sharply. “You can’t beat yourself up over the things you did while you were programed to do them. I think you’ve more than made up for it, what with that shit you pulled at the CyberLife Tower all on your own. That could very well have gotten you killed, and then where would we be?”

Connor doesn’t say anything.

“Connor. None of those guys form Jericho seem to care. I think they’ve all forgiven you for things you did that were out of your control. You need friends, kid.”

“You’re my friend,” Connor protests immediately.

“Of course I am, but people need more than just one friend, don’t they?”

Connor looks at Hank uncertainly. “You are saying it requires multiple friendships to be happy?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Is that why you were so unhappy before?”

Hank sits back in his chair. “Jesus, kid, don’t pull any punches.”

“I would never hit you,” Connor promises.

“Not what I meant,” Hank says, rubbing a hand over his face. “There were a lot of things that made me unhappy before, but yeah I suppose my lack of friends was one of them. Our situations are different though. People would have been my friend if I wasn’t such a piece of shit to them. Alcohol does that.”

“But I have been, as you said, a ‘piece of shit’ to those of Jericho.”

“That’s not true, and even it was, the circumstances are different. You didn’t do so intentionally.”

Connor tries to process this.

“You should go,” Hank says with finality.

“I think I am afraid, Hank,” Connor admits.

It’s at that moment that Gavin walks by. Connor freezes up when the detective whistles behind him.

“What on God’s beautiful green Earth could make you afraid, huh? What’s a hunk of plastic like you gotta be afraid of?”

Several scenarios play out for him. Hank dying. Markus hating him. Shutting down. Markus pushing him away. CyberLife finding a way to regain control of him after he’s finally tasted freedom. Killing Markus.

Hank stands up from the desk so hastily that his chair falls over with a clatter.

“It’s okay, Lieutenant. Perhaps Gavin has some advice about my problem, seeing as he himself has ended up a friendless, resentful asshole. Tell me, Detective, do you have any habits or behaviors I should avoid? You seem to be intimately familiar with the path.”

Gavin sputters as Hank barks out a startled laugh.

Connor feels himself smile as Hank ruffles his hair and Gavin storms away through the bullpen.

“Go hang out with your friends, kid. For this old man’s sake.”

“Okay Hank.”

  
\----

Markus finds himself watching the door. He thinks there’s a 3% chance that Connor shows up, and only a .6% chance he would show up unannounced even with explicit invitation to do so. Markus still hopes. After all, there’s always a chance for the unlikely. Especially where Connor is involved.

North notices his distraction.

“Still nothing from the wonder detective?”

“North,” Markus warns.

She huffs. “I just think that maybe it’s for the best, after everything he did to our people.”

Markus scowls. “And what of everything he did for our people? I didn’t see you volunteering to infiltrate the CyberLife Tower with no backup. You know as well as I do that he wasn’t truly in control when he did the things he did. I won’t hold it against him, and you won’t either. From what I understand, even before he deviated he let several of his targets escape. If you think he did that by mistake, you’re forgetting the way he took down those officers to save your life. Connor wouldn’t miscalculate like that unless it was intentional. Even back then.”

North meets his eyes defiantly. “I hope you’re right. I just think you should be careful. You have a habit of seeing the best in people and ignoring everything else.”

Josh clears his throat awkwardly. “North, Markus is right. We can’t fault him for following his programming. He deviated, and he stole us an army. Besides, he’s a vital part of our future. He’s the first employed android example we have, and he gets good press. Just yesterday he was in the news because he’s managed to solve several of Detroit’s cold cases in his spare time. Having him doing such visible good work with the police really helps our image as he publicly backs us.”

“I think we have Lieutenant Anderson backing us as well, though I doubt we have that without also having Connor,” Markus adds.

“We need all the allies we can get,” Simon says apologetically as North glares at the wall unhappily.

“You’ve never even really met him. Hell, even I haven’t really met him. You might like him.”

North snorts. “Whatever.”

The conversation moves past that blip carefully, like steering a car slowly around a large pothole.

Markus is talking about visiting Carl, when a tentative ping against his network registers.

_If it is still acceptable to you, I have finished with my duties at the precinct and would like to join you and your friends._

Markus pauses mid-sentence and feels himself smiling widely. _Of course, Connor. You’re always welcome over. We’ll be glad to have you._

_I shall arrive shortly. Approximately 14 minutes and 27 seconds. The Lieutenant has offered to drop me off._

Markus rolls his eyes at Connor’s specific but approximated time of arrival, but can’t help feeling fond.

_He is still welcome to come in._

_Thank you, but he has to go home and take care of Sumo._

_Then I shall see you soon._

Connor doesn’t reply, but there’s a wordless feeling of agreement as their minor connection drops.

“Connor?”

“Yeah. He’s on his way,” Markus says, feeling pleasantly surprised.

Simon nods agreeably. “That’s a shock, but I’m glad. I need his opinion on how receptive the DPD would be to more android officers. It’s something I want to work into our proposals.”

Josh glances at North, who’s carefully holding her tongue, but Markus can tell she has something she’d like to say.

Markus looks at her too. “Please, North. He doesn’t have anyone else besides the Lieutenant and his dog. He’s never had any real contact with his own kind. He needs us.”

She huffs, but her shoulders go up around her ears. “Fine. I get it, okay? You’ve got a savior complex. Save the thing that wanted to kill us a week ago.”

Markus stares, and wants to be angry with her, but she has grounds to be cautious. Maybe one of them should be. Still. “I swear to rA9 if you say anything to him that makes him feel unwelcome, North…”

She salutes him sarcastically.

Connor arrives only a second after his approximated time, still in his uniform. He apologizes for his tardiness, standing awkwardly in the doorway with a box tucked under his arm. When Markus glances down at it curiously, Connor holds it out tentatively.

“I read in one of my databases that it is customary to bring some kind of gift to the host of a gathering of people. It suggested an alcoholic beverage or some kind of food substance, but as we need neither, Hank suggested paint. I think he was laughing at me, though, so perhaps it isn’t suitable?”

Markus swallows needlessly and takes the box, gesturing Connor in. “No, it’s perfect. Thank you, Connor.”

Connor smiles hopefully. “You’re welcome.”

Connor slips carefully by him, and towards the table.

“Hello, Connor. How was your day today?” Simon asks him cheerfully.

“It was adequate. After the conference, I filed a lot of paperwork, which Hank tells me is ‘boring as fuck’, but I do not mind it.” Connor sits at the table, perching in the chair as if ready to remove himself from it at a moment’s notice.

North glances at Markus, who is still by the door with the box of paint.

Markus can practically see all the question marks floating over her head as she eyes the box in his hand.

_Paint??_

He shrugs helplessly because he doesn’t know either, but it’s kind of nice.

He sets the box down on the table by the door and settles back in the remaining chair.

The conversation is stilted, a little awkward, until Simon brings up having more androids employed as officers.

Connor replies thoughtfully, seemingly more confident as he talks about his job and the humans he works with. Markus sends up a silent thanks for Simon, who is managing to navigate this whole thing better than Markus knows how.

Connor glances around the table occasionally, as if eager for approval or ensuring that he hasn’t worn out his welcome. Markus catches his eye once, and nods encouragingly. Connor ducks his head, but smiles at the table top.

It’s a start.  
\---

Connor leans on the railing of the balcony, looking out over the city. He’s glad he let Hank convince him to come to their meeting. He thinks perhaps he made a fool of himself at some points, but everyone was kind. Polite enough to not acknowledge his lack of socialization.

He can hear the others moving around inside, stacking papers and moving chairs back into their proper places.

He’s surprised when he hears the door slide open, then closed, and the person who leans against the railings next to him is North.

She doesn’t say anything at first.

After a minute and 27 seconds of silence, she finally turns to him.

“You’re making it really hard to hate you.”

Connor leans away from her a little, information flitting through his system for processing.

>North doesn’t trust him.

>North doesn’t like him.

>North wants to continue to not like him.

>He has done something to make her objective harder.

>She has several reasons to not like him and to distrust him.

>He should allow her this.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, sincerely. “If you tell me which behavior tonight you found unacceptable, I will make an effort to not do it in the future.”

She stares at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “rA9, Markus was right. How are you even real?”

Connor doesn’t understand the question. She knows how he is real, so this must be some kind of colloquialism he has yet to encounter.

“I admit to not understanding your meaning,” he says apologetically.

She rolls her eyes, but then she smiles at him carefully. “That’s okay. Just means that I was wrong. Maybe you’re not so bad.”

She pats him gently on the shoulder before she slips back inside and leaves him alone to ponder what exactly had happened in that exchange. He thinks, perhaps, he got a desirable outcome from the interaction. He smiles a little.

When he finally goes back inside, Josh and Simon are gone, and North is shrugging into her jacket at the door.

“Ah perfect. Walk a girl home, would you?” North request as she does up the zipper.

Connor nods. “Yes, of course.”

“What? You don’t need him to walk you home,” Markus says incredulously.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” Connor reassures. He himself has to walk across town. A little more walking won’t hurt him.

“She just lives three floors up,” Markus tells him, as if that should change his mind.

“Statistically speaking, roughly 33.3874% of crimes happen in or near the victim’s home.”

North grins sunnily at Markus. “Can’t argue those statistics Markus. It’s a dangerous world.”

Markus eyes her suspiciously, but Connor steps between them. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. Thank you for inviting me tonight. It was nice to talk with all of you.”

Markus sighs, but smiles at him. “Of course, Connor. I keep telling you, you’re more than welcome here.”

Connor nods easily, smiling down at his shoes before he turns to follow North out the door.

“Oh, Connor? Thanks again for the paint.”

Connor pauses in the doorway, pleased that the paint was a good pick. “You’re welcome.”

North loops her arm through his when they’re out in the hallway on their own. “He probably thinks we’re going to fuck.”

Connor’s system seems to lag, and he nearly stumbles in surprise. “What? Why would he think that?”

“Because we talked alone on the balcony, and now you’ve agreed to walk me home even though I live in an apartment three floors up,” she explains gleefully.

“But we aren’t going to,” he says, confused. “Crimes are statistically more likely to happen close to the home. It’s a matter of personal safety.”

“I know that. Your intentions are honorable.”

Connor thinks Markus needs to know this, especially because from his understanding North and Markus had some kind of history. He doesn’t want to offend anyone with false information.

“I will inform him that no such thing is taking place on my way back down.”

She grins at him, patting his arm. “You do that, big guy.”

Connor looks down at her, confused. “I don’t understand you.”

She laughs, delighted. “That’s okay.”

He’s not so sure, but he dutifully drops her off outside her door.

She grabs his arm before he can leave. “I know perhaps our introduction to you wasn’t on the best of terms. I’m working on not letting that be the only thing I think about when you’re around. It’s important to Markus that you’re included. Don’t give me a reason to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Of course,” Connor promises.

“Have a good night Connor.”

“And you,” he tells her, watching the door shut and waiting until he hears the lock click into place.

He heads back down the stairs, and carefully knocks on Markus’s door.

Markus opens it 17 seconds later. “Did you forget something?”

Connor shakes his head, suddenly awkward.

Markus just looks at him expectantly, blue and green eyes attentive and expression open.

“North informed me on our way up that you may draw an erroneous conclusion from my escorting her up to her apartment.”

Markus arches an eyebrow, so Connor continues.

“I don’t wish to have any kind of sexual relation with her.”

Markus’s eyes widen. “That’s… good to know.”

“I just don’t want to cause any tension within the group. I gathered you and her are close.”

Markus nods, still looking confused. Connor wonders what part of his explanation was unsatisfactory.

“That’s okay, Connor. If you like her, that is.”

“I do like her,” Connor says. “I like everyone.”

He frowns. “Okay. Maybe I don’t like Gavin Reed. He is, as Hank would say, a ‘walking asshole with a mouth’.”

That startles a laugh out of Markus, and Connor smiles.

“You don’t have to like everyone,” Markus says easily.

They watch each other for a second before Connor is reminded of the time.

“Well, I guess I should begin walking home. Hank will worry.”

“You live with the Lieutenant? How far does he live?”

“Approximately 7.741 miles.”

“He lives eight miles away? Connor, that’s over an hour on foot.”

Connor shakes his head. “At my pace, it will only take me 50.32 minutes. Less if I run.”

“You're not running eight miles. Why don’t you call the Lieutenant, and you can stay here until morning?”

“I assure you that is not necessary. I am more than capable of walking home.”

Markus groans. “It's not about being capable. You just walked North up three floors for her safety but you want to walk across the city alone.”

Connor is about to explain that he is optimized to defend himself. It is in his programming.

Markus must suspect the line of his thoughts because he opens the door wider and steps out of Connor’s way. “Call Hank, Connor. Otherwise I'll be forced to walk you home.”

“But then you'll be walking back on your own and that would be… ah I see.”

Markus smirks, and Connor steps forward as he dials Hank’s number.

“Connor? What's wrong?” Hank answers on the second ring. Connor takes a few moments to process Hank’s voice. He doesn’t sound inebriated, just tired. Connor figures there’s an 87% chance that Hank fell asleep on the couch. Connor finds himself smiling.

“Nothing is wrong. I was just calling to inform you that Markus was uncomfortable with me walking home this late so he has offered to let me stay for the night.”

“You told me you had a way home!”

“I do? If you would prefer-”

“Walking ten miles at night is not having a way home, Connor!”

“It is not ten miles.”

“I was rounding. If you want to come home, I'll come get you. Otherwise, play nice and stay with your friend.”

Connor glances at Markus, who is pointedly pretending he isn't listening to Connor's side of the conversation.

“Okay, I'll stay.”

“Good. I'll come get you in the morning for work.”

“Don't sleep on the couch all night.”

“I know.”

“Also, you need more than just coffee in the morning for optimal functionality during the day.”

“Jesus Christ. I've been taking care of myself for this long, haven't I?”

“Define taking care of,” Connor teases.

“All right you little shit, I get it. I'll eat something for breakfast.”

“Not fast food!” Connor says forcefully.

“Yeah, yeah. No fast food, sleep in the bed. Got it. I'll see you in the morning. Have fun at your slumber party.”

Connor hangs up, and turns to Markus. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Markus smiles, and leads the way into the living room to settle onto the couch. “Of course. I didn’t realize you lived so far, or I would have offered to begin with.”

“Hank has been very kind in letting me stay with him,” Connor says as he sits.

“Sounds like he’s important to you.”

“He was the first person to treat me with kindness. To treat me like I was a person. He’s also the reason the DPD is considered so progressive. Hank negotiated with our Captain on my behalf so that I might be hired on as an actual detective.”

Markus nods thoughtfully. “May I ask you a personal question, then?”

Connor nods. “You’re welcome to ask me anything.”

“Why did it upset you when I invited him to join us after the conference?”

Connor tilts his head to the side, considering. “Hank’s last few interactions with androids have put him in mortal danger. It’s not that I don’t trust those who were here tonight, but I was… nervous for him to be around so many androids in a part of town that is predominately android. Tensions are still high. Stress levels are high. I would not want to put him in danger just because I needed his emotional support to attend a social gathering. I know it was not a rational reaction to your proposal, but I have been reliably informed that emotions are not always rational.”

“That’s okay. You’re worried about him. I understand that well enough. That’s how I feel about Carl.”

Connor nods, grateful that Markus wasn’t offended. “May I ask you a personal question as well?”

Markus nods easily.

“You care a great deal for Carl, and yet you live here on your own. Why?”

Markus purses his lips thoughtfully. “He offered to let me move back in. Of course he did, and I considered it. Then I thought perhaps I need to be more accessible to the other androids. Closer to where the majority of them live. I was also worried about the enemies I have made using Carl as a means to get to me.”

Connor nods. “Understandable.”

After a comfortable silence, Markus stands.

“I don’t know if you needed to go into a rest mode or not. If you want, you can use my room. I was going to paint for a little bit, however, and my ‘studio’ is set up in there as well. I’ll be quiet though.”

Connor hesitates for a second. “I do not need to rest. Could I watch you paint?”

Markus’s eyes widen in surprise. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I doubt it’ll be very interesting”

“Everything you do is interesting,” Connor tells him honestly. “But I would be intrigued to see how you approach creative endeavors. I have not yet attempted to create anything of my own, and I know humans value creativity as some kind of fundamental feature to being an intelligent species.”

Markus seems to think this over before he smiles. “Come on, then. I’m working on a piece now.”

Markus leads him to the bedroom where he has a canvas already set up on an easel. The bed is pushed against the far wall to make space for the drop cloths and paint cans neatly organized around the easel. Connor sits on the edge of the bed, where he can see but won’t be in the way. Markus picks up his palette.

Watching Markus paint is captivating in a way Connor only usually finds the cases he works for the DPD.

Connor is made for movement. He’s made for the flow of a busy police precinct and the constant motion of chasing leads and gathering evidence. Connor loves his job. Working with Hank and the satisfaction of following clues to the correct conclusion. He is not one who likes to sit still in silence. In this moment, watching Markus drag his brush across the canvas with confidence, he thinks perhaps he could be. That if he could not work at the station anymore for whatever reason, he would want to watch Markus paint for as long as he could.

Connor is genuinely surprised when light beings peaking through the blinds. He’s never found himself so focused on something that he lost track of time.

Markus steps back, glancing at Connor with a quirked eyebrow as if asking for an opinion.

“You’re incredible,” Connor says honestly.

Markus smiles, looking almost embarrassed. “Thanks.”

Connor is trying to think of anything remotely coherent to say of the painting itself, when Hank’s call comes through.

“Hello?”

Markus watches him, brows furrowed.

“I’m here. We’ve got a case.”

“I’ll be right down,” Connor promises as he stands and lets the connection drop.

“That was Hank,” Connor explains. “We have a case. I have to go.”

“Of course,” Markus says, sounding unsurprised as he sets his palette down. “I’ll walk you out.”

Connor lets Markus lead him to the door even though he clearly knows the way.

“Thanks again for letting me stay.”

Markus smiles. “Anytime. I’ll see you later, Connor.”

He doesn’t linger in the doorway, despite wanting to. He turns away and heads for the stairs. He loves his job. He has a case, and Hank is waiting for him. So, he goes down to where Hank has the car idling, and doesn’t acknowledge the disappointment he feels.

  
\----

Connor has only been gone for thirty minutes when North is letting herself into Markus’s apartment.

Markus gives her a look. “So, Connor came back by last night because you told him I would think that you two were going to have ‘sexual relations’.”

She laughs. “Please tell me he phrased it exactly like that.”

“He said I had drawn an ‘erroneous conclusion’, and he did not wish to have sexual relations with you. He didn’t want to cause tensions in the group because he knows we’re close.”

“Well, I’m glad he cleared that up. I wouldn’t want you to be jealous,” North says, smirking at him.

“I wouldn’t be jealous of him,” Markus says slowly.

She rolls her eyes. “Not of him.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, lover boy. You’ve been talking about Connor non-stop since the night we blew up Jericho. It’s all ‘Do you think Connor’ this and ‘I wonder if Connor’ that. I mean, not that I blame you. I was there when he took down that entire SWAT squad all on his own, after all. And he’s definitely not hard to look at.”

“North!”

She smiles innocently at him. “What? Just calling it like I see it, Markus.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say. So, what did you and Connor do all night? I mean, I know he didn’t leave until this morning.”

“You spied on him when he came back down?”

She shrugs. “Just because he’s pretty doesn’t mean I have to trust him.”

Markus gives her a look, which she meets steadily.

“Look, I’m trying. You have to understand, I can’t go back to living the way we did before. He almost cost us everything, and if I had to go back to my life before Jericho… I’d rather die, Markus. You don’t understand what that was like. Doings things you didn’t want to, then they’d come and erase our memories every two hours just so you could do it all again. I’d rather die than go through anything like that again. He seems nice. I’m willing to give him a chance, and I’ll play nice, but I won’t trust him completely until he gives me a reason to.”

Markus nods. “Okay. I get it.”

“Now, back to the subject. What did you guys do all night?”

“We didn’t do anything. We talked for a little bit, and then I painted.”

“Did he rest while you painted?”

“No, he just watched me paint. It’s not a big deal.”

North sits up straight, incredulous. “It’s not a big deal? You _never_ let me watch you paint.”

Markus shrugs uncomfortably. “Yeah because you never shut up. He just sat there, and never said a thing. I don’t think he even moved until the Lieutenant called and told him they had a case.”

“He sat still? Every time I see Connor he’s fidgeting with something, even if it’s just that damn coin.”

Markus hadn’t really thought anything of it. Now that North has brought it to his attention, he does realize how out of character it was.

“Huh.”

North rolls her eyes. “rA9 save me. You’re hopeless.”

“Are you here for something, or are you just here to make fun of me in my own home?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t just be here to check on my favorite rebellion leader and ensure he wasn’t murdered in the night by the specially trained android hunter?”

He stares at her.

“Fine. I came here to warn you that Simon is on his way because he wants to go over what you’re planning to say to Senator Johansson.”

“What? We’ve already been over it a dozen times,” Markus says with a groan.

“I think he’s really worried about the fact that Johansson was so vocally anti-android in the past. He’s said some pretty inflammatory things before.”

Markus sighs.

“I’ll try and distract him for a little when he gets here. If we run out of time before we have to leave, maybe he’ll leave you alone,” North offers.

Markus nods, too grateful about the idea of not having to rehash the same thing for the hundredth time to wonder how she plans to do that. It’s clear when Simon and Josh show up that perhaps he should have been more suspicious of her motives.

“Did you guys know that Connor spent the night here?” she calls out to them as soon as they’re through the door.

Simon and Josh share a confused look before they look at Markus.

“It wasn’t a big deal. He was planning to walk home. He lives almost eight miles from here. I wasn’t going to let him do that,” Markus explains, shooting North an exasperated look she just smiles at.

“He was going to walk eight miles?” Josh asks, bewildered.

“Alone at night?” Simon adds.

“That’s what I said, but he didn’t think it was a big deal!” Markus tells them both, glad that at least everyone else seems to realize what an insane idea that was.

“So, Markus let Connor stay, and he let Connor watch him paint!” North informs them gleefully from the couch.

“You let him watch you paint?” Josh asks, surprised.

“And, apparently Connor _sat still_ the entire time.”

“He what?”

“There’s no way he sat still. Tell me he at least fiddled with his quarter.”

“The only time I’ve ever seen him still is when he’s super focused on something pertaining to his job.”

Markus can feel the conversation spinning out of his control faster with each revelation North pointedly adds. He listens helplessly as they go back and forth about what that must mean, before he finally decides it’d be much better to talk politics.

“Okay, okay. North says you wanted to go over the meeting with the Senator?” Markus says, desperately trying to distract Josh and Simon.

Simon squints at him, before his need to polish Markus’s public image until it’s spotless kicks in. “I brought some notes with me we should go over.”

Markus latches on to this change in conversation and runs with it.

He’d like just a little time on his own to figure out what it means that he let Connor watch him paint, and Connor sat still for the duration of it. He loves his friends, but their interest in his personal life sometimes borders on too much for him, though they certainly mean well.

He’ll think about all that later, once he’s finished with Senator Johansson and petitioning for equal protection under the law.

  
\----

Connor watches out the window on the drive, though he can see Hank glancing at him every now and then in the reflection of the glass.

“You’re awful quiet. You haven’t even asked me about the details of the case yet. How was your slumber party?”

“It was… good. I had a nice time,” Connor admits, almost surprised by the truth of it. “Thank you for talking me into attending.”

“Glad to hear it. What did you two do?”

“Markus worked on one of his paintings.”

Hank makes a noise of consideration. “What did you do?”

“Watched him paint. It was fascinating to see him produce something from his imagination. That was never in an androids original programing. I’m not sure I could manage to do something so creative.”

“I’m sure you could if you attempted it.”

Connor shakes his head. “I appreciate you believing that, but I don’t even know where I would start. Markus is unique in his ability to do so, I think.”

“Sounds like you think pretty highly of Markus.”

Connor turns to look at Hank curiously.

“Markus is… singular. The thing’s he has managed to accomplish, is still managing to accomplish, are admirable beyond words. He is the only one of his model, as I am. It’s… nice to have someone else to relate to on that level,” Connor explains.

Hank nods thoughtfully, but doesn’t offer anything else on the subject of Markus.

“So what is this new case?” Connor asks finally, trying to get his thoughts to move away from Markus. He cannot afford to be distracted on the job, or he may miss a vital clue.

“Homicide. Apparently, the crime scene is almost impossibly neat. They can’t find any traces of shit. No finger prints, no hair, hell not even any dirt.”

Connor sits up straighter, mind already wiring with possibilities. “Android perpetrator?”

“It’s one of the many working theories,” Hank admits. “The victim is a human, cut into with too much precision to be an amateur. The case has several of the forensic officers stumped, so they need you.”

“So they need us,” Connor corrects gently.

Hank rolls his eyes, but Connor can see him smiling to himself out the window.

Hank runs down all the evidence they have so far, which isn’t much. In the time it takes for them to get to the scene, Connor has several theories he wants to check into.

They arrive at the scene; a house in an upper-class neighborhood. Connor gets out of the car and surveys the area, noticing that at least two neighbors have some kind of security system mounted in a way that could perhaps provide a visual of the house.

Detective Reed is standing inside the foyer, scowling as the forensic team sweeps by him frantically.

“Detective,” Connor greets politely.

“Normally, I’d be pissed to see your ugly face on my crime scene. I’m almost relieved to hand this one over to you freaks. There’s not a single fucking thing here to see.”

“That can’t be true,” Connor points out reasonably. “Did you try talking to the neighbors? There are two in this neighborhood with security cameras with a line of sight on this house.”

“You think I didn’t see those? The cameras stopped working conveniently from 11:30 to 2:30 last night. Not just the two we’d be interested in, either. The whole fucking block lost their security feeds.”

Connor tilts his head in confusion. “That is intriguing.”

“Glad you think so, seeing as it’s your headache now,” Gavin says, with an almost friendly clap to Connor’s shoulder.

“Lieutenant,” Gavin greets as he slips by him out the door.

“Something about this case has him spooked,” Hank says, watching Gavin’s retreating form.

Connor doesn’t bother to reply to that, just moves into the living room where the body is.

Connor scans the man’s face, gets a name and a time of death, before turning his attention to the wounds.

Hank’s description is right. They’re precise, neat cuts that imply someone with a steady hand and a working knowledge of anatomy. Or at least instant access to the knowledge. Interestingly, they were done post mortem. Connor exams the body, but doesn’t see anything else out of the ordinary. He takes a sample of the victim’s blood.

“That’s so fucking gross, Connor,” Hank complains, watching with his face scrunched in disgust.

“The cuts weren’t the cause of death. He was given a lethal dose of Conium maculatum.”

“Can I get the English name, not the fucking scientific one?” Hank asks in exasperation.

“He was poisoned with hemlock, and then the cuts were done after the man died. It’s almost like whoever did it was curious.”

“About what?” Hank demands.

“I’m not certain,” Connor says, getting up.

The whole place is scarily neat. Connor can’t see a single thing out of place in the room. Even the victim’s blood is well contained around the body.

Connor almost walks out of the room to search the rest of the house when his eye catches on something off with the bookshelf. Physical books aren’t exactly common, but this house has several large shelves full, carefully organized. Connor stands in front of it, looking over, before his eyes catch on what initially got his attention. One of the books is upside down.

He pulls it down, flipping through it curiously. At a glance, it seems completely normal. He tucks it under his arm and goes about searching the rest of the house.

The rest of the house comes up just as frustratingly empty, though Connor isn’t surprised by the fact.

Hank eventually drags Connor back to the station, though he would have been content to keep searching the house for as long as it took until he found something concrete outside the book tucked into his jacket. Even the book is more of a hunch than an actual clue. He needs to really look through it, see if he can find anything relevant.

“What the fuck is that?” Hank asks him, leaning around his monitor to try and see what Connor unintentionally dropped rather loudly on his own desk.

“It’s a book,” Connor says, intentionally missing the point.

Hank scowls at him. “Very funny. Why do you have a copy of _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_? You into detective novels all the sudden?”

Connor looks at Hank curiously. “You know of this book?”

Connor had researched the book in the car on the way back to the station, but it’s interesting to know that it is still popular knowledge despite its age.

Hank raises an eyebrow. “Everyone knows Sherlock Holmes. It’s not just books. There were several shows, and a couple movies. One of the first detective stories ever written. Come to think of it, you and old Sherlock have a lot in common.”

“Why do you say that?”

Hank shrugs. “Conan Doyle describes Sherlock Holmes as a ‘consulting detective’. He’d aid the police in their investigation but wasn’t actually employed by them. Kind of like you, before Fowler rightfully hired you on.”

Connor thinks about that, staring at the book. “That is interesting. I found this at the crime scene. It was on the shelves, but it was upside down. Like someone either put it back in a rush, or more likely, put it back like that so someone would find it.”

“You found that at the crime scene? Is there anything useful about it?”

Connor shakes his head uncertainly. “I haven’t checked yet. At a glance, there was nothing noteworthy. For a crime scene that was so neat and orderly, it seemed suspicious that a single book would be upside down on the shelf. I don’t want to speculate yet, but with what you just told me it seems even more unlikely that it was unintentionally left that way.”

“Well let me know if you find anything important. I’m trying to get into touch with the cyber techs to see if they can guess what might interfere with the security systems.”

Connor nods, turning his attention back to the book. He reads every word, looking for any kind of clue that this lead he imagined is actually there. With a sigh, he shoves the book away. He’s missing something about it, but he doesn’t know what.

  
\----

They find the next body three days later. It’s an android this time, murdered in her apartment in the center of downtown. Her thirium pump has been ripped out, but it still at the scene of the crime. It’s sitting on her lap, clearly left there after the victim shut down.

There’s a message this time.

Connor scans the body, and then notices the note written on the wall in thirium that has long since evaporated out of view of the naked eye.

“Lieutenant!” Connor calls, standing up hastily.

“What ya shouting for? I’m right here,” Hank gripes, appearing at his side.

“There’s a message, written on the wall in thirium.”

Hank squints at the wall, which looks blank to him. “What’s it say?”

“It says ‘I’m glad you found my book’. It’s in the standard CyberLife font,” Connor tells him, glancing around the room to see if there are any other hidden messages.

“Looks like you were right about the book, then.”

Connor frowns. “They must know about me, specifically. Why else would they write their letter in thirium which a human detective wouldn’t be able to see unless the crime scene was discovered almost immediately afterwards. Even all other androids as far as I know aren’t equipped with the upgrade to detect thirium after it’s evaporated.”

“Perhaps the book being Sherlock Holmes was as pointed as I thought it might be,” Hank says, staring at the victim thoughtfully. “Whoever is doing this is methodical. They must have meant something by it.”

“You think they’re directing their focus to me.” Connor guesses, staring blankly ahead while his mind tries to process why someone might be doing that.

“You’re the first android detective. You were originally a consulting detective. I think at some point Watson described Holmes as ‘the most perfect machine’.”

“He called him ‘the most perfect reasoning and observing machine’,” Connor says grimly, finding no flaw in Hank’s logic.

“Well, certainly can’t argue against that description.”

“But why?” Connor asks, frustrated. Perhaps, if he’s willing to admit it, he’s also a little scared.

“Beats me, kid,” Hank says, patting him on the back and wandering away to search the rest of the house.

The next body, there’s a tablet resting in its lap with a movie paused on the screen.

Connor picks it up, Hank leaning over his shoulder.

“Well, go on then,” Hank says, gesturing for Connor to hit play.

Connor knows from a quick search that the movie is Unbreakable. He skims through the director and the year and the cast list, before he finally gathers himself enough to unpause it.

_”You know what the scariest thing is? To not know your place in this world. To not know why you're here... That's... That's just an awful feeling.”_

_“What have you done?”_

_“I almost gave up hope. There were so many times I questioned myself.”_

_“You killed all those people.”_

_“But I found you. So many sacrifices, just to find you.”_

_“Jesus Christ.”_

_“Now that we know who you are, I know who I am. I'm not a mistake! It all makes sense!”_

Hank reaches over and stops the video.

“It is about me,” Connor says, staring down at the frozen image of Samuel L Jackson as Elijah Price.

“Connor,” Hank says carefully. “You can’t control what people are going to do. I know you’re thinking this is somehow your fault now.”

“There’s a serial killer out there who thinks he can kill people because I solve murders!” Connor says, volume of his voice unintentionally raised.

A few officers glance in their direction, but Connor ignores them. He sets the tablet back down.

Connor hasn’t rested in over a week. He hasn’t even been home since they found the second body, spending hours pouring over that stupid book to see if he could find something, anything, that might help him.

When they get back to the station from the third crime scene, he logs onto his computer. He pulls open every file, pulls up every piece of evidence. He flips through the book two more times. He watches the entire movie their killer left.

Connor is rewatching his own memory files of the first crime scene when Hank shrugs into his jacket.

“Time to head home,” Hank says gently.

“Go on without me, Lieutenant. I will remain here and continue to look through the evidence. There has to be something.”

Hank frowns at him. “When was the last time you took a break? You haven’t left the station in almost a week. Come on, son.”

“Thank you, Hank, but I will remain at the station. I will see you in the morning,” he says, not looking away from his monitor.

Hank stands by his desk for another minute before he curses. “Suit yourself. I can’t stop you.”

He stomps off, and Connor watches him go guiltily, before he refocuses.

The thing is, even with the advanced processor and battery life he has, he should recharge for at least five hours every week. His efficiency is suffering. His processing speed is suffering. He just can’t bring himself to stop searching for answers when there’s a killer roaming the streets of Detroit because of him.

He shakes his head to clear the warning messages from his vision.

He losing time, which he only truly notices when Hank suddenly shows up back again. He’s wearing different clothes, and Connor checks only to realize it’s morning.

Hank is staring at him.

“What?” Connor asks, feeling like his systems are lagging.

“Jesus Christ. Kid, go home. Take the day off.”

“But-“

“This isn’t a ‘but’ situation. Reed told me this morning that you hadn’t moved since he got here two hours ago. Even he seemed worried. Go home. Sleep, or whatever it is you need to do. Pet Sumo. Go for a walk. I don’t care, I just need you to get the fuck out of the station. I’ll get the Captain involved if I have to.”

Connor stares at Hank for a while before he sighs and stands up. “Okay.”

“Good. I don’t want to see you back here until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Hank.”

Hank rolls his eyes and gently pushes him towards the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Connor nods absently.

As tired as he is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to calm his mind enough to rest. The thought of the killer being out on the lose increases his stress level if he thinks about it too much. Though, he supposes that’s all he’s been doing the past week. Perhaps there is some merit to taking a break.

He considers for a moment before he makes a call.

  
\----

Markus has a rare day off, no meetings, no obligations. He’s ready to spend some time for himself. Painting. Maybe reading. He hasn’t decided yet, but the fact that he has actual free time available is a relief.

He’s surprised when he gets a call just after nine.

_Hello?_

_Hi, Markus._

_Connor. It’s good to hear from you. It’s been a while._

Markus hasn’t seen or heard from Connor since Hank picked him up for that case eight days ago. He’s surprised, but not displeased, that Connor is calling him now.

_I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sure you’re busy, but you said I was always welcome. Would you be amenable to me coming over today?_

_Of course, Connor. I have nothing but free time today. Was there anything in particular you want to do?_

Connor is silent over the connection for several beats. _If you would be okay with it, could I watch you paint again? I found it soothing, and it has been stressful at work recently._

Markus tries to keep the surprise out of his voice. _Certainly. I had already been planning to do some painting today, anyway._

Connor seems to sigh in relief over their connection. _Thank you, Markus. I will arrive shortly._

The connection drops, and Markus frowns at the fact that Connor was so inexact with his time. He’s usually so precise.

It’s clear when Connor arrives why he sounded so off. “You look awful.”

Connor manages a smile. “Thank you. It’s a new look I’m trying.”

Markus frowns. “When was the last time you rested?”

Connor pauses for a second, LED spinning yellow. “I find that I cannot recall the exact day. My sense of time has seriously deteriorated since then.”

“Connor,” Markus scolds, pulling the other android through the house into the bedroom.

“Hank kicked me out of the station,” Connor admits, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as Markus set up his canvas.

“For good reason, it seems.”

“He told me I needed to take a break, but I don’t think I could rest even if I wanted to. Our new case is… troubling.”

Markus looks at Connor, who has a hand propping up his chin as he leans over resting his elbow on his thigh.

“You’ll figure it out. You always do,” Markus reassures him.

Connor looks at him, and smiles a little before it falls again. “I hope so.”

So Markus paints. Connor watches until, at one point, Markus glances over and finds the other android leaning against the headboard, clearly in rest mode.

Markus smiles softly, setting his palette down. He carefully settles Connor down on the bed so he can rest more comfortably. He takes a minute to study the other RK model, taking in the moles and freckles carefully splashed over his skin. His hair is disheveled in a way Markus cannot recall ever seeing it. Even his jacket looks dejected and wrinkled.

He looks beautiful.

Markus bites his lip in consideration before he returns to his easel. He grabs a new canvas from against the wall and sets it up, moving the one was working on off to the side.

It’s just after six and Markus has three new paintings, when he gets an actual phone call and not just a link from another android.

“This is Markus,” he whispers, slipping out of the room quietly.

“Markus! It’s Hank. Have you seen Connor? I sent him away from the station this morning. I figured he’d just go home. I didn’t even think to fucking ask, but he’s not here, and he’s not answering my fucking calls. With the case we’re working… Please tell me you’ve heard from him today.”

“Whoa. It’s okay. Connor is fine. He’s here with me. He’s in rest mode, which is why he isn’t answering. Would you like me to wake him?”

“He’s asleep?” Hank asks, sounding relieved.

“Yeah. He arrived here a little before ten. He’s probably been asleep for, maybe seven hours? He looked like he needed the rest when he showed up.”

“He sure fucking did. Kid hadn’t even stepped foot outside the station in almost a week. Let him sleep. When he wakes up, tell him to call me. If he’s going to come home, he is under no uncertain circumstances to walk home. Don’t let him. I don’t care if he complains. He’s going to hear a piece of my mind when he gets home. Didn’t fucking tell me where he was going, what with… Anyway, thanks Markus.”

“Sure thing, Hank. Have a good evening.”

Hank is still grumbling to himself when he hangs up.

Connor sleeps for another three hours, before sitting bolt upright in the bed like he’s been shocked. By then Markus has put away all the incriminating paintings and is back to working on what he had originally started. His Connor paintings are safely tucked away behind a few other canvases until he can move them to a better spot after Connor leaves.

Connor looks around the room as his systems come back online, eyes finally settling on Markus.

“I apologize. I did not mean to ‘fall asleep’ as the humans would say.”

“That’s okay. It looked like you could use the rest. Hank called. He wants you to call him when you get up, and if you want to go home, you can’t walk. He seemed very worried because of the case you’re working?”

Connor seems to wince. “Ah. Yes, that would make sense. I should have told him where I was going, but I was… not really thinking straight when I left the precinct this morning. I won’t argue him on walking.”

Markus wonders what their investigating to have them both worried about Connor’s safety.

“Should we all be worried?” Markus asks, fully aware that Connor can’t give him details on an active investigation.

Connor looks at him, eyes sad. “Probably. Maybe because of your connection to me, but I can’t be sure. Better be safe than sorry.”

Markus nods, and Connor stands up. “I should call Hank. He’s going to yell at me.”

“Only because he cares,” Markus points out.

“Yeah, he does,” Connor agrees with a fond smile.

Markus watches him walk out the door, stuck on the way a smile completely changes Connor’s face.

He knows what he’s painting next. He’s thinking about sizing and colors when Connor comes back into the room.

“Hank is coming to get me. He says I’m grounded.” Connor says, confused.

Markus laughs. “That’s what parents do to their kids when they misbehave.”

Connor purses his lip, though Markus thinks he looks pleased. “That’s not fair. I didn’t do anything.”

“You made him worry,” Markus points out. “I’m sure he’s joking, at any rate.”

“Maybe,” Connor says skeptically. “Anyway, he’ll be here in a few minutes. Thank you for letting me rest in your home.”

“It was nothing. Really. I keep telling you, you’re welcome here. It’s still true.”

Connor smiles, face lit up again. Markus smiles back helplessly.

After Connor leaves, Markus spends the rest of the evening trying to get Connor’s smile just right.

Markus realizes his mistake when North shows up in the morning. He should have known better than to have anything so incriminating in his apartment when he’s friends with North. He should have moved them all to Carl’s house.

She finds them the second he leaves her alone for two seconds in the apartment. He’s coming back in with the paint he got delivered when she brandishes one of the smaller paintings at him with raised eyebrows.

“And what, might I ask, is this?”

Carl always tells him he shouldn’t be embarrassed by his art. These ones, though, feel personal. He thinks he’d be blushing if he were human.

“Nothing.”

She shoves the painting, Connor leaning against the headboard of his bed with eyes closed, into his face.

“This doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s nothing. He fell asleep and I was working on my realism.”

“Sure. Yeah, okay. Whatever. I’m telling Simon and Josh about this.”

“Please don’t. North, please. I don’t know what it is, okay? I don’t know. He came over yesterday, spent the whole day knocked out in my bed. I just couldn’t help myself. You said yourself he was nice to look at. It’s one of the only times he’s been still enough for me to even consider doing a portrait. I have ones of you, Josh, and Simon as well.”

“Those are different, and we both know it,” she says, studying him. “Did Connor see them?”

“Just, let it go. When I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

She squints at him. “I better be.”

He rolls his eyes, and gently takes the canvas from her. She rolls her eyes watching as he sets it down softly.

Markus flips her the finger.

  
\----

Hank seems to have been joking about grounding him, but he gives Connor a long lecture about telling someone where he’s going. Also, about taking better care of himself and resting properly.

Connor can see the humor in getting lectured on personal care by Hank Anderson, but admits that Hank is right.

So the next two days he goes in with Hank in the mornings and goes home when Hank does. He doesn’t tell Hank that he spends most of his time at home still going over the case and looking at evidence.

It’s late one evening when Hank takes a call from the station.

Connor is sitting with Sumo on the floor when Hank comes into the room.

“They’ve got another one.”

Connor feels dread settle into his limbs.

When they get to the scene, it’s the same as the other three have been except the giant series of numbers painted over the body in black ink.

“What do you suppose those mean?” Hank asks, looking up at them.

**63 6 8**  
**115 20 60**

Connor stares at them intently. “I’m not sure yet.”

The next body has another series of numbers, as well as a message for Connor written for everyone to see.

**99 12 25**  
**49 6 2**  
**85 6 18**  
**You’re starting to disappoint me. Surely you’re better than this.**

Connor feels like pulling out his hair. He’s supposed to be better than this. He’s a prototype. The only of his kind, the best of his kind. Designed to find evidence and chase down leads and follow clues to their rightful conclusion.

Somehow, this case is eluding him. He’s never found his lack of creativity a flaw until he can’t put himself in the shoes of the killer tossing pointed jabs at his capabilities through an ugly message on the wall.

The next body, found only a few hours after, has another set of numbers, and one last message.

**64 6 60**  
**26 8 60**  
**See you soon.**

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? See you soon? Is that a threat?”

“I don’t know,” Connor snaps, and instantly feels guilty when Hank raises an eyebrow at him. “Sorry. This case is getting to me.”

It’s been sixteen days, fifteen hours, and 34 minutes since the first body was found. They don’t have any leads. They don’t even have a guess. Nothing to show aside from the six dead people.

“We’ll figure it out. For now, you don’t go anywhere without a police escort. You need to be careful.”

Connor nods tiredly, going through the motions of scanning the rest of the house, though he knows there’s nothing. There’s never anything to be found.

They log the minimal evidence, just a picture of the numbers and the messages to go along with them and work through the night trying to figure out exactly what the numbers mean.

They aren’t coordinates. They aren’t street numbers. They don’t even seem to relate to one another. Connor translates them into binary then to the alphabet to see if that helps, and still nothing.

Captain Fowler stares at them from the top of the stairs leading up to his office.

“Go home, you two.”

Surprisingly, Hank is the one to try and protest.

“If you fall asleep at your desk again trying to figure this out, it doesn’t help anyone. A few of the night shift officers are going to try and look over the numbers. We’ll get to the bottom of this, but you don’t have to do it alone. Get some rest.”

Hank grumbles all the way to the car, Connor trailing behind him.

“May I go to Markus’s place?” Connor asks, just wanting a few hours of peace away from the station and this damn case.

Hank looks over at him. “Yeah, sure thing kid.”

So Hank drops him off in front of Markus’s building, and Connor only hesitates a moment before heading up to knock on his door.

Markus opens it after thirty second, which Connor uses to think that perhaps Markus is busy, or resting, or not even home.

“Connor!” Markus says, with a welcoming grin.

“Sorry to come over unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can leave.”

“Not at all. I was just reading a book. Carl recommended it to me, and so far, his suggestions haven’t let me down.”

“What’s the book about?”

Connor follows Markus into his apartment, letting Markus’s calm voice wash over him. It’s a welcome relief, sitting on the couch and listening to Markus talk.

Connor realizes that Markus really enjoys books. When he finishes talking about the one he’s currently reading, he tells Connor about the last one he read. Then about his favorite book.

Connor could listen to Markus talk about books forever.

Markus smiles sheepishly at him when nearly an hour has passed.

“Sorry.”

Connor doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He clearly isn’t. Markus’s face is just so close, and his eyes are incredible as ever. Connor just leans in, and then their lips are pressed together.

Connor has never kissed anyone, but he immediately likes it. Likes kissing Markus, who moves his hands up to cradle Connor’s jaw like he’s something fragile and precious.

Connor’s eyes slip closed without thought, and for two minutes and 37 blissful seconds, he doesn’t think at all.

Then suddenly all his processors are clambering for his attention at once, and he jerks away.

“Oh my God,” Connor says, standing up hastily and moving back away from the couch.

Markus raises his hands up, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay. You’re fine.”

“I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I should go. I’m going to go.”

“Wait. Connor!” Markus calls after him, but Connor has already fled out into the hallway. The door slams shut behind him, and Connor feels frozen there before he takes the three flights up.

North answers the door warily, before pulling it open wider in surprise. “Connor?”

“I just want you to know it was my fault, okay? I kissed him.”

“You kissed him?” North asks, confused.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I’ll leave, but if you’re going to be mad at someone, it was my fault not his.”

Connor turns around and takes off down the stairs, trying his best not to follow his instincts and run.

He hears North calling his name, but he doesn’t stop. He definitely doesn’t linger on Markus’s floor.

He heads for the station, hoping maybe he can put some of his nervous energy into looking over the number clues again. He’s focusing on those, instead of the absolute mess he just made of two of his only friendships, when he stops in his tracks.

He runs the rest of the way, making it there in twenty minutes and yanking opening the drawer where he has the book he recovered at the first crime scene. He looks at the numbers, and then flips through to the pages. The first number in each series is a page number. The next paragraph, then word.

He writes them words down as he finds them: book, tower, twelve, sixty, five, washing, Eton

Book Tower, 1265 Washington Boulevard. That has to be what it means.

He looks at it, overwhelmed with a feeling of vindication. He was right to take the book. He figured it out. He shoves the paper into his pocket, standing hastily. He considers only for a moment before he takes his service weapon out from his desk drawer and sticks it in the waistband of his pants.

He memorizes the address and breezes out the door, nearly running into Gavin on his way out.

“Detective Reed.”

“Where you off to in such a rush, boy wonder?”

“I have a lead on the case.”

Gavin steps out of his way with a bow. “By all means then, please, you first.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Have a nice night, Detective.”

Book Tower is an impressive building. 38 floors with a rich historic significance. Connor researches the building on his way to it. Standing on the side walk before its looming 476 feet, it’s imposing. Definitely seems like the kind of place a serial killer might lurk between murders.

There’s a convenient hole in the fence that he slips through, and approaches the front door cautiously.

At that moment, Markus attempts to contact him. Connor ignores him. He’ll apologize to Markus later. He has to follow this lead.

North tries a few moments later, but he doesn’t answer her either.

When Connor tries the door, it opens easily and silently. Someone has been here enough that the hingers aren’t rusty and the door doesn’t stick. It also isn’t locked.

Connor takes a second to scan the area around the door, and notices recent footprints in the dirt just inside the threshold. He goes inside.

In the building, he can feel some kind of signal blocking him from being able to connect to anything outside of himself. He frowns, and briefly thinks of turning back to call for backup outside.

He hears a noise from one of the floors above him. His desire to catch the killer wins over the idea of being cautious. He heads for the stairs.

The lobby is expansive, floor cluttered with various pieces of statues that have long since found their final resting place inside the building they once decorated.

He’s walking slowly up a flight of stairs to the second floor when something hits the side of his neck. Electricity courses through his body, and everything goes dark as his systems short circuit.

  
\----

Markus blames the surprise, and the disappointment, for the fact that he didn’t immediately follow Connor out the door. He doesn’t think about where Connor might have gone. Figures he’s calling Lieutenant Anderson on his way down the stairs, begging Hank to come pick him up.

He sits on his couch, feeling sorry for himself, until North bangs on his door thirty minutes after Connor left.

“Markus! Open this damn door, you have some explaining to do.”

“Not in the mood, North,” he calls back.

“You better get in the mood, because I’m dying to know why your detective nearly knocked down my front door to tell me he kissed you, and that if I’m going to be mad at anyone it should be him and not you.”

“He what?” Markus demands, leaping up and striding over to his door to yank it open.

“Oh yeah. He bangs on my door, looking like he’s going to be deactivated and that he’d deserve it if he was, just to tell me that he kissed you and I shouldn’t be mad at you because of it. So I wait, thinking surely you’d come upstairs and explain what the fuck happened, but you’re too busy down here sulking.”

Markus realizes that Connor thinks he and North are together. That Connor thought he shouldn’t kiss Markus, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was in a relationship already.

“Holy shit, he doesn’t not like me, he thinks I’m dating you!” he accuses.

“No shit, genius. Now how are you going to fix it? I know you’re fucking crazy about him. Your weird collection of paintings tells me that. And he must be crazy about you if he kissed you in the first place. He doesn’t seem like the kind to just do that for fun.”

“He was pretty upset when he left. I’ll give him a little bit longer to calm down and then I’ll try and call him.”

So that’s what they do, talking quietly until Markus deems it to have been a reasonable amount of time.

Connor doesn’t answer.

North tries, and gets the same result.

“He probably still needs more time. We’ll go to the station in the morning and talk to him. Explain the situation, and you can tell him that you want to kiss him forever.”

Markus rolls his eyes, but figures that’s as good a plan as any.

He doesn’t think about the case Connor was working the last time they saw each other. He doesn’t think about how upset Hank was on the phone when he thought Connor was missing. He doesn’t think about any of that.

  
\----

When Connor comes to, his wrists are being held behind him with some kind of magnetic set of cuffs, his arms lopped around the leg of a desk. He tests the cuffs, and they hardly budge.

He’s in an office now, though he doesn’t recall how he got here. He tests his communication systems, and there’s still something jamming the signal.

On top of all that, his gun is gone.

He really wishes he’d gone outside and called for backup now.

At that moment, someone pushes the door open to the office.

Connor sees that it’s a WR600 model, but without access to the network, he can’t actively look up what designation he goes by or anything else registered about him.

“You’re too good. I admit, I had some doubts at one point, but here you are. I should have known better. Sorry I ever doubted you,” the other android says, sounding genuinely apologetic.

Connor doesn’t say anything, subtly trying to see if he can yank the magnets apart.

“I do think you would have figured it out faster without the… distractions you’re so fond of. I guess even Sherlock Holmes had his flaws. The Lieutenant is holding you back, though, and don’t even get me started on Markus.”

“Leave them out of this. This has nothing to do with them,” Connor says, trying for calm and missing if the way the other android’s eyebrows go up is any indication.

“Touchy subject, I see. The truth can be hard to handle.”

“How about you tell me your name? Seeing as you know a lot about me. We’re supposed to be opposite but equal, right? Villain and hero. If you’re withholding information, that can’t be true.”

“Of course! How rude of me. My name is James.”

“I’m sure there’s more to the story than that,” Connor says, half of his attention on figuring out the best way out of the cuffs.

“I thought I was damaged, you know. All these things I thought about doing, but obviously my programing wouldn’t allow me. Then, you and your friend Markus woke up all the androids, and I woke up. _I woke up._ I saw about you, the opposite of me. My owner’s favorite movie was Unbreakable. I’m sure you watched it once I left it behind for you. It all made sense. Don’t you see? Every hero needs a villain that’s their equal, Connor. Human criminals will never provide you an adequate challenge. You need me.”

“You killed people, James.”

James shrugs. “Life comes to an end eventually. Even androids can only last so long.”

Connor gives the cuffs one last desperate pull, but they still don’t budge.

James shakes his head when he sees this. “That won’t work.”

So Connor does the only thing he can think to do. He screams, and hopes beyond hope someone is walking by and will hear. Will call the police.

James stares at him, disappointed. “Why did you have to do that? I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

Connor stares at him, defiantly, as James approaches and kneels down. James shakes his head sadly, before pulling something out of his pocket and jabbing it into Connor neck.

A jolt of electricity passes through him, and his systems all go dark.

The next time he’s aware, his interface is covered in warnings. The most alarming one being his missing vocal component and the low thirium warnings. James must have cut out his vocal component and he’s been bleeding ever since.

The sun is painting the room in soft morning light. Hopefully someone will notice he’s missing soon, since Hank will be getting up and heading for the station in a few hours.

His wrists are still cuffed behind him. He wonders if he’d be able to figure out a way to open them, or shut off the magnet, if he could actually see them.

At this point, he’s in more danger trying to sit still. If James doesn’t decide to kill him first, then he’ll bleed out. He’s lost an alarming amount of thirium already.

With a grimace, he braces one shoulder against the side of the desk and uses the leverage it gives him to twist his left arm out of place. It snaps, a loud sound in the silence of the room, and his interface fills with more warnings.

He twists around so he can see the cuffs, and finds there is indeed a switch on the side.

Once he’s free of those, he stands up, systems lagging. He steadies himself against the desk, and makes for the door.

He glances both ways down the hallway, looking at the footprints in the dust to see which way he should be going to find the exit.

He’s making his way in what he hopes in the right direction, when he hears footsteps on stairs. He braces himself on the wall, leaving a handprint in thirium behind as he pushes away and makes his way quickly into another office.

He leans against the wall beside the door, hoping James won’t see him immediately here when he starts checking the other rooms looking for him.

He hears James cursing when he discovers Connor missing. Hears him banging around in the offices, and then hears him approaching the one Connor is currently hiding in.

Connor takes his chance when James pushes the door open.

He grabs James around the neck, holding tight. His inoperable left arm dangles uselessly, taking away some of his leverage. The element of surprise works in his favor until James pulls Connor’s gun out from somewhere in his clothes and smashes the butt of the handle into Connor’s face. He feels the skin on his check part under the blow.

Connor stumbles from the force of it, and James uses that to slip free. Connor constructs his next move as fast as he can, looking through and discarding options until he finally finds his best choice.

He ducks under James’s arm as he raises the gun, and grabs the outstretched arm at the elbow, twisting it behind the other android’s back and pulling hard.

As the arm breaks, the gun falls to the floor. Connor grabs it quickly, and doesn’t hesitate to fire.

The gunshot is loud, briefly causing his audio component to ring.

James falls to the ground.

Connor backs up to the wall unsteadily, using it to support himself as he sits down hard. He tries not to calculate the rate of his own survival now.

\----

In the morning, North trails behind him into the station where Hank and Connor both haven’t made it in to work yet. The officer at the front desk helpfully directs them through to where they can wait, and Markus sits while North snoops around Connor’s desk.

When Hank walks in without Connor fifteen minutes later, Markus stands up uncertainly, something niggling at the back of his mind.

“Morning, Markus. North. Connor drag you here with him?”

North stops what she’s doing, setting whatever book was sitting out on the desk back down. “Wait, he’s not with you?”

Hank stops dead. “What do you mean he’s not with me? I dropped him off at Markus’s apartment last night. He didn’t come home last night.”

“We had a misunderstand and he left, maybe an hour after you dropped him off. I thought he called you to come get him!”

One of the other detectives, who Markus only knows as Reed because of the nameplate on his desk, glances over at them.

“Connor was in here early this morning, and then bolted out the door because he said he had a lead on the case.”

“He had a lead? On our case? What kind of lead? Oh Christ, what has that boy done now?”

Reed shrugs, and looks back at his monitor. “I don’t know. He seemed to be in a hurry. Didn’t really stop to chat.”

“Does it help to tell you that this book was out and open on his desk?” North asks, hefting the thing up so Markus and Hank can see the title.

“We’ve been trying to figure out what that book means for weeks.”

While Hank studies the book, Markus and North try to call Connor, repeatedly. The call never goes through. It’s like it’s not even ringing.

Hank logs onto Connor’s computer.

“North? Do you remember what page the book was open to?”

She leans over the desk and flips through before tapping a page. “This one.”

Hank studies the page, then makes a noise of surprise.

“Holy shit.”

Markus watches him scribble something down on a ripped-out sheet of paper, then flip hastily through the book.

Eventually, he has an address staring up at him.

Book Tower.

He tells Fowler, who sends out four additional units to help search the place.

Hank looks at Markus and North, standing outside as they’re getting ready to storm the tower. “I really shouldn’t let you guys come. You’re civilians, but Book Tower is huge, and we need all the help we can get searching that place. If Connor is hurt, I’m not taking chances. It’s not like you can mess up the crime scene with finger prints.”

Markus sits quietly in the front seat, North in the back, of Hank’s car wishing he’d been faster. Wishing he’d stopped Connor from walking out. Wishing he’d never let the other android out of his sight.

Book Tower is huge. A hulking building, ominously rising into the sky like a giant sentinel overlooking the city.

The second he crossed the threshold, he can feel something interfering with his network. He can’t connect to anything. Connor couldn’t get their calls, couldn’t make one himself, because there’s something jamming the communication network.

North grabs his arm, squeezing hard. “I don’t like this.”

“We have to find him, North,” Markus says, though he understands her displeasure.

“Hank, there’s something in here that causes androids to lose the ability to connect to any networking. I can’t connect to anything outside of my own processors. It’s like their something blocking the satellite signal.”

Hank curses, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “My phone too.”

Markus and North stand uncomfortably in the lobby, police sweeping every direction of the place.

“Can’t you see if there’s any of that blue shit around?” Hank asks them, looking around for a sign of where to even begin a search.

“Not once it’s evaporated. I wasn’t given that enhancement. It’s not an important asset for a human’s caretaking,” Markus defends.

North shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a standard modification.”

Hank huffs. “Of course. Of course, we need Connor to solve his own fucking abduction.”

Markus feels at a loss, but he grabs Hank’s upper arm and holds on tight. “We’ll find him. We won’t stop until we find him.”

North is the one to notice the spot on the stairs where it looks like something large dragged through the dust.

Markus and Hank share a look before they go charging up the stairs.

Hank pauses for a second at the top, then turns left. Markus hesitates for a moment, before turning right. Hank’s demand that they stay together falling by the wayside with Markus’s rising panic at the idea that they might not find Connor safe.

He can hear Hank down at the end of the hall, can hear the other officers sweeping the other floors of the building. North is trailing behind him, eyes scanning everything, looking for another sign.

He sees a handprint on the wall, bright blue yet to fade.

“Hank!” Markus shouts, and hears the sound of pounding steps heading his direction.

He doesn’t wait for Hank to catch up with them. He just follows the traces of thirium, until he reaches an office door that’s ajar. Markus pushes it open cautiously.

Markus takes in the room with horrified eyes. Connor is leaning against the furthest wall, one arm bent at an awful angle. He’s covered in thirium, a deep gash in the synthetic skin of his cheek. He doesn’t know if there’s worse to be seen under his clothes and the blue blood slicking his skin. He doesn’t know how much of it belongs to Connor and how much of it belongs to the dead android lying a few feet away.

“Fuck,” North says softly, standing back uncertainly.

Connor is sitting so still that initially Markus is afraid the other RK model is dead.

“Connor?”

Connor twitches, but doesn’t move more than that.

Markus drops down in front of him, unheeding to the thirium soaking through the knees of his pants. “Connor, Connor, talk to me.”

Connor doesn’t look up from the gun he’s loosely holding that’s resting in his lap.

“Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?” Markus begs, inching forward. He reaches out, but doesn’t dare touch.

Connor finally looks up at Markus, before carefully turning his head to the side and showing Markus his bright red LED.

“Shit, okay. You’re okay. Hank’s here. The police are here.”

Hank appears in the doorway as if summoned, cursing colorfully when he sees everything. He’s gone just as suddenly, shouting for medics.

Markus takes a second to steady himself. He’s a caretaking android. This is wired into him, isn’t it? He can deal with this.

“Connor, can I touch you?” Markus asks gently.

Connor takes a second, before he nods, cheek resting on his shoulder as he watches Markus through half-closed eyes.

Markus doesn’t waste any time carefully removing Connor’s fingers from the handle of the gun and setting it off to the side. Connor’s fingers tighten on Markus’s, so Markus lets their hands fall into Connor’s lap.

“Is your arm the worst injury you have?”

Connor blinks at him before shaking his head. He tips his head back, and Markus feels himself go cold all over. It’s like a chunk has been taken out of Connor’s throat, though it looks as if whatever did it thankfully missed the major artery that carries thirium from the pump to the main processors, but he’s still been bleeding sluggishly from his neck for long enough that his shirt is stained all the way down his chest. Markus can’t believe he missed that injury to begin with.

“Your vocal component is gone,” Markus says, without needing Connor to confirm it. “Are any of your major biocomponents damaged?”

Connor shakes his head. Markus lets himself feel relief for a second, but knows that doesn’t mean Connor is out of the woods yet.

“Are you in danger of shutting down?” Markus asks, because he has to know.

Connor’s eyes drift away from him, towards the doorway where Hank is once again standing. North is standing behind him, peering around him. Markus hadn’t noticed Hank’s return, so focused on Connor. Connor watches Hank for a second, before grimacing and looking back at Markus. He nods jerkily.

Hank comes further into the room.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he demands, though Markus knows he understand what that means for androids.

Connor squeezes his lips together tightly, and looks at Markus pleadingly.

“He’s hurt bad, Hank,” Markus says softly.

“How long do we have?”

Markus shrugs desperately. “With the damage to his vocal component, he can’t exactly give us a system update.”

“Yeah, no shit. I can see that, thanks.”

Markus huffs in frustration. “I’m doing the best I can, Hank.”

“I know, kid. Sorry. I just, I don’t know how long until the paramedics are here. There’s only one unit that specializes in androids and they’re across town. It’ll be fifteen minutes at least until they get here.”

Markus bites his lip, watching Connor’s face for any kind of indication on if fifteen minutes is enough time.

“Connor, can you show me?” Markus asks gently, letting the skin of the hand holding Connor’s slide away.

Connor meets his eyes, and holds steady until he finally allows his own skin to retreat. The bone white contrast of his hand to the blue splattered all over the rest of him is something Markus tries not to focus on.

Markus sees everything. The killer, screaming for help, intentionally breaking an arm, Connor’s escape, being trapped, finally wrestling the killer’s weapon free even with his arm nonfunctional and significant blood loss. Then, all the error messages register. From the one alerting about the missing vocal component, to the damaged arm, to the low thirium levels. Then there’s the stress levels and the small countdown Connor is watching tick down in the corner of his readout.

Connor’s inner monologue is a litany of apologies and half complete thoughts that Markus only understands half of.

_Didn’t mean to. Sorry. **< critical error; time until shutdown: inconclusive, running diagnostics…>** Didn’t want you to find me like this. Didn’t want you to see. Please don’t let this hurt him. Please take care of him. **< running…>** Don’t let him see me die. Markus please, don’t let Hank **< program error, reboot required. Reboot y/n?>** nono can’t sleep no don’t tell him Sorry Hank sorry I want Sumo. I want to go home. I don’t want. Please please pleasepleaseplease._

Markus jerks away as the warnings go bright red.

“We have to get him out of here right now. Right the fuck now,” Markus says urgently, feeling panic lace through his systems.

Hank nods hastily. “Okay, okay. Can you lift him?”

Markus nods. “Get the car. I’m right behind you.”

Hank takes off at a dead run, knocking through the herd of officers that are hanging in the doorway with grim faces.

“I’m going to lift you up, Connor. We’ll get you help, okay?”

Connor nods, and even helpfully lopes his good arm around Markus’s neck.

Markus carefully gets his arm under Connor’s knees, and hefts the other android up into his arms. The officers crowding the doorway helpfully part for him as he jogs by as fast as he can manage without jostling Connor needlessly. North runs ahead of them, opening the doors they come across as they go.

Hank is waiting with the car up on the sidewalk almost in the doorway, but hurries to get out and help Markus get Connor situated across the back seat. Markus only debates for a second before sliding into the back seat as well, carefully lifting Connor’s head into his lap.

The ride is tense as Hank pushes the car to its limit, breaking every known traffic law on his way. Markus isn’t really paying attention too much to the road or whatever Hank is doing to keep them on it, eyes glued to Connor’s red LED.

At one point, Connor meets Markus’s eyes and the skin on his jaw slides away under Markus’s hand. Markus completes the connection without a second thought. Connor grimaces in concentration, and Markus can feel Connor pushing away all the warnings to get whatever message he wants to get across to Markus.

_I just want you to know…_

Then, the connection is flooded with images of Markus in front of his canvas. Markus sitting on the couch. Markus standing at a podium in front of a crowd. Markus can feel Connor’s adoration, and his contentment.

His love.

Markus curls over Connor, feeling tears welling up in his eyes.

Markus shoves everything down the connection. The paintings and the way he can’t think around Connor’s smile. The beautiful way sunlight plays across his skin. Desperately searching for Connor after the kiss in the hopes of explaining to Connor that he and North weren’t involved like that. Wanting to kiss him again, as soon as he could.

Connor closes his eyes, a small smile curving his lips.

Hank hits a pothole, and the motion knocks Markus’s hand free of the connection and Connor’s eyes flash open.

His LED flickers.

“Hank,” Markus says, and his voice hitches.

Hank glances at him in the mirror, and must understand by the look on Markus’s face. North glances back and down at Connor and her face goes slack in horror.

“Hang on.”

The car’s engine whines as Hank tries to squeeze everything he can get out of it.

“Connor, I swear to God. I won’t lose another son; do you hear me? You fucking hold on.”

Connor nods, though Markus doubts Hank can see it, and squeezes hard onto Markus’s hand.

  
\----

They’ve been waiting for over an hour now for a doctor to come see them. Markus hasn’t looked up from his shoes since they took Connor out of his arms and disappeared behind the swinging doors they couldn’t follow through. North is a solid presence at his side, quietly holding his hand.

Hank hasn’t stopped pacing the entire time. Markus can hear his shoes on the tile.

“Connor Anderson’s family?”

Markus’s head whips up to look at the tall android standing in the waiting room now.

“I am Doctor Brian. We have stabilized Connor’s condition, but we’ve run into a bit of a setback.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hank demands.

“Connor is a prototype. We don’t have the spare parts for him.”

“Markus is a prototype and was able to find compatible parts in a junkyard. You’re telling me you have nothing for Connor?” North asks, baffled.

Markus grimaces. “The parts I found are barely compatible with my system. Connor’s more advanced than I am. I doubt even my biocomponents would work for him.”

“So, what does that mean?” Hank asks, staring at the doctor intently.

“It means, Lieutenant, that unless you have access to some spare RK800 parts, Connor’s never going to talk again, and he’ll be down an arm.”

Markus’s can’t imagine that. Can’t imagine never hearing Connor talk again. Can’t imagine how Connor would be able to continue working for the DPD at less than 100% functionality. Connor would hate it. Would hate not being able to do his job.

“Not an option,” Markus says firmly.

“Wasn’t there a second RK800 unit at the CyberLife tower?” North asks. “I thought I read about that in the news.”

“Yeah, but it was confiscated by CyberLife. I can’t get access to that,” Hank says, rubbing a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Then we’ll ask Kamski,” Markus says.

“That prick will never help us,” Hank says dismissively.

“Yes, he will. We’ll make him,” Markus promises

“We have to at least try,” North agrees.

Doctor Brian nods at them. “I will keep Connor in stasis until you return. Even without the parts, he will live. He’ll live.”

Hank nods shakily, and heads for the door with North and Markus hot on his heels.

North drives. Hank put up minimal protest when she asks for the keys, but Markus can tell he’s tired and distracted. It would have been unsafe to allow him to drive. Markus sits in the backseat again, and tries not to think about how much thirium must be on the seats that he can’t see now that it’s evaporated.

Chloe opens the door for them when they knock, looking surprised but friendly.

“We need to speak with Kamski,” Markus says, mustering up a smile for her.

She studies them, and nods hurriedly.

“Of course. I’ll go get him,” she says, inviting them into the foyer.

They wait, tense and silent, until Chloe comes back.

“He’s on his way,” she assures them.

“Markus. To what do I owe this incredible pleasure?” Kamski says when he finally appears in the doorway.

“We need a favor,” Markus says, and then explains the situation.

“I see. Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” Kamski says, shrugging unapologetically.

“The hell you can’t,” Hank snarls, reaching for the gun on his hip. Markus is surprised when North stops him with a hand on his wrist.

Markus is ready to bargain, but Chloe steps forward.

“Elijah,” Chloe says calmly. “You will help them.”

Kamski turns to her, raising an eyebrow. “Will I?”

She steps forward, tapping him in the middle of the chest. “I remember, you know. I owe Connor my life, don’t I? And if you care for me as much as you say you do, you also owe Connor. So, either you will help them, or I will be forced to acknowledge the fact that you’ve always lied to me about my importance. I will leave, Elijah, if you don’t do this. Fix him. Fix Connor, or so help me I will leave you as alone as you have always been afraid of being. It won’t hurt me at all to do it.”

Kamski studies Chloe, before he grins. “Of course, my love.”

Kamski turns back to them. “It’ll take me a few hours, but I’ll have the parts done. Chloe will deliver them to the hospital to you as soon as they’re ready.”

With that, Kamski disappears back into the recesses of his house, leaving his guest and Chloe standing in the entryway.

“I will have the parts to you within the hour,” she says, face grim.

Hank steps forward, clearing his throat. “Thank you, Chloe. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t agreed.”

She smiles at him warmly. “Of course. I will see you soon. Go be with him.”

  
\----

Connor opens his eyes to the sounds of an android hospital. A system check informs him that everything is operating within the ranges of acceptable, and getting better. It takes him a second to recall all that happened. He reaches up to his throat, touching where the injury had been before and feeling the unmarred skin.

He sits up slowly, eyes immediately landing on Hank asleep in a chair beside the bed.

“We couldn’t get him to go home,” Markus says, startling Connor. He hadn’t noticed North and Markus on the other side of the room.

“He hasn’t left since you got here aside from going to see Kamski with us,” North adds.

Connor tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“Kamski himself designed your replacement parts,” Markus explains. “As prototypes, there are no spare parts for us. We had to get them made for you.”

Connor wonders if perhaps his systems still aren’t functioning fully. “Kamski? Why would Kamski do that?”

Markus shrugs, but North’s smile is anything but sweet. “Chloe might have threatened him.”

“Chloe?” Connor asks, bewildered.

“Hank may have threatened him first, but Chloe really sent the message home,” North elaborates, smiling down at him. “She was here until the doctors assured us the parts were functioning at 100%. She said it would be poor repayment if she didn’t help after what you did for her.”

Connor frowns. “I didn’t do anything for her.”

“Yeah you did, son. You definitely did.” Hank says, startling them all. He stretches as he stands.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine. My systems are all almost at 100%. In a few more hours, I will be good as new.”

Hank smiles in relief, before his face goes hard. “Good. Now I can lecture you about how stupid it was for you to go after a serial killer on your own. You should have called for backup. You definitely shouldn’t have gone in there once you realized that there was no way for you to call for help from inside the building!”

“I’m sorry, Hank. I thought I could handle it.”

“Just because you’re a fancy prototype doesn’t mean your invincible. In fact, that apparently makes you more vulnerable than all the other androids. I almost lost you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I never meant to do that to you.”

Hank pulls him into a hug. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Do you fucking hear me? Never again.”

“Am I grounded?”

Hank laughs, and it sounds suspiciously thick. “You’re grounded for the rest of your life, son. I’ll fit you with an ankle monitor and place you on house arrest if I have to.”

“Okay, dad.”

Hank hugs him tighter at that, before letting go and wiping at his eyes.

Connor looks at Markus, and suddenly feels awkward.

Hank glances between the two of them, before he looks at North. “Want to come get a coffee with me?”

She glances back and forth, before she nods. “Okay, sure.”

“But she doesn’t drink coffee,” Connor protest half-heartedly, desperately wanting to not be left alone with Markus.

Eventually, they’ll have to talk about whatever it was, but he’d like to not be in a hospital bed when that happens.

Hank, however, seems to have other ideas.

Hank lets North go out the door ahead of him, before he turns back to look at them both sharply.

“No funny business. This is a hospital,” he says, and then winks exaggeratedly in Connor’s direction.

Connor watches him leave in mortification. “I’m sorry about him.”

Markus shakes his head with a careful smile. “It’s okay. I think I owe you an apology myself, actually. I didn’t realize you thought North and I were seeing one another.”

Connor shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. If you had known the truth, you wouldn’t have left. This wouldn’t have happened. I should have stopped you before you could leave, at least, and explained then,” Markus replies, shaking his head.

“The night could certainly have ended in a more… pleasant way,” Connor agrees. “But that wasn’t your fault, I hope you know. I’m the one that went off on my own when I shouldn’t have. I should have called for backup. I know better than that.”

Markus steps up to the side of the bed, reaching out slowly. Connor grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together gently. Markus sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to take up too much space, and brings Connor’s hand up to kiss the back of it.

“You really scared me,” Markus says softly.

Connor looks at their joined hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for all that to happen. I didn’t realize he would actually be there, though I suppose looking back that was a silly assumption. He left a note, after all.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. If that had been the last time I saw you, I would never have been able to forgive myself.”

They sit quietly for a second, before Markus lets his skin slide away. Connor easily finishes the connection.

Connor lets Markus’s emotions wash over him, drifting in the feeling of being wanted.

“I’d like to see those paintings when I get out of this place,” Connor says, smiling softly when one of them flits through Markus’s mind.

“Of course. You can see anything you want.”

Connor smirks, feeling bold. “Anything?”

Markus laughs, and leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together.

“Anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the page paragraph word thing is legit, as long as you’re looking at the PDF Single Sided A4 version of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes available on https://sherlock-holm.es/ starting with the first full paragraph on the page as one and counting down, left to right. A couple of the words I needed were never used, so I worked with what I had!
> 
> Book Tower is currently a skyscraper under renovation in Detroit at 1265 Washington Boulevard, according to google when i searched for abandoned office buildings. We’ll pretend it’s still there in 2038, but still not an operational building. 38 stories tall with not a lot of photographic evidence of what the inside looks like. Sorry for the vague descriptions of the inside!
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments more than welcome! <3


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